Kaup Beach on a rainy day is elemental. Unbroken grey of sky and sea is skirted by the white petticoat of swirling spume. The spume rises high, high, high and slaps against two giant rocks rising a few yards from the shore, before rushing to its inevitable end on the sandy stretch.
Kaup is believed to be the watery equivalent of the strangers mothers warn their daughters against. Dangerously magnetic, it has, in the not too distant past, claimed two young lives. On a day like this, you know that settling for a single-digit statistic would be a rare act of generosity. The gripping run of the churning sea is halted by a man-made structure, the lighthouse built by the British in 1901. This 130-ft high structure emits its brilliance for 26 nautical miles. Pandurang, an old hand at the lighthouse, periodically walks up four long flights of dewy steps, up the five storeys right to the top, which contains the light. Visitors are allowed entry, he says, but not today. The ticket books which come from Mumbai have not yet arrived and we are deprived of our sliver of light.
Also worth a visit is the Hosa Mariamma Temple, believed to be 200 years old and designed like an ancient home, only more elaborate. It houses a bronze statue of the tribal goddess, Mariamma, who is worshipped by three communities and is believed to protect the entire village from harm.